Tea before breakfast every morning, unless I need to wash my hair on a school day and there is no time. Why did I make coffee this morning, why? I don't like it with milk, black or with cream is the only way. Already grumpy, 'milked' coffee and the worst breakfast choice of all-toast. Toast is bread, bread is bad, it serves only to offer temporary comfort. Time to get dressed, easier said than done. I donated 80% of the clothes from my wardrobe to the school (sold by weight to raise funds). I filled 5 bin bags with ill-fated impulse charity shop buys (but now I miss them). Not warm enough for proper summer clothes, I had to wear a cardigan. "Do I look ridiculous?" His reply; "You look...sensible"
"I'm not bothered if I look sensible today, sensible will do. But does the cardigan look silly, it doesn't match anything"
"It's good that you look sensible, you're not sensible, so you can pretend you are today, the skirt and vest match, and the cardigan matches the vest so there isn't an issue, let's go"
Oh, I'd like to go, but the washing needs to go on the line and the boys aren't dressed. Try to be positive, why on earth are you struggling? Let's co-operate! You put the washing out, I'll dress the boys. Everything suitable is in the ironing pile, so here we go again. Track-suit time. The only time the track suits come out is when visiting nanny (the buyer of track suits) and when "mummy is having one of those weeks". So, mummy looks sensible, the boys look like mini 'wide boys' and daddy looks...tired.
Raisins, cheese, apples, crisps, spare pants, trousers, drinks CHECK.
My phone isn't fully charged, my underwear isn't very comfortable, my chest is tight, throat sore... deep breaths, asthma pump. I have a spot on the bridge of my nose, ripe for squeezing. If I squeeze it, it'll look unsightly, but I can't bear to leave it. Into the car, which is a skip full of detritus, debris, dirt. Music comes on louder than usual, competing with tearful two year old (probably tired from disturbed itchy-skin sleep). I start to twitch internally.
Off we go, to Toys R Us, to look for some more pieces for the train track. It's miles away, we pass many an uninspiring industrial estate. We miss the turning, never mind, turn around a mile up the road. I'm not used to big stores any more, I get dizzy pretty quickly, and lose the tiny bit of spatial awareness I have. The boys sit on bikes, the train track section is poorly stocked, we browse and leave, empty handed.
Cream for their sore skin, must stop at the chemist, must pretend it's for me or they won't sell it (even though the doctor prescribes it for them) and must buy Fairy washing powder to stop their skin getting sore. Get the cream (pharmasist: "who is it for?" er, me. "Which area of your body is it for?" my bottom. Great lie, she'll never ask to look there.). I forgot to get the washing powder. I feel so very out of sorts, I hoped writing this would sort me out, I feel worse.. Tuesdays aren't meant to be like this, I go to my exercise class on Tuesday, I don't have everyone home normally. I can't believe how much of a 'creature of habit' I have become. How worrying.
Strong tea and run, that is my next strategy, it'll either kill or cure me
Watch this space...
"I'm not bothered if I look sensible today, sensible will do. But does the cardigan look silly, it doesn't match anything"
"It's good that you look sensible, you're not sensible, so you can pretend you are today, the skirt and vest match, and the cardigan matches the vest so there isn't an issue, let's go"
Oh, I'd like to go, but the washing needs to go on the line and the boys aren't dressed. Try to be positive, why on earth are you struggling? Let's co-operate! You put the washing out, I'll dress the boys. Everything suitable is in the ironing pile, so here we go again. Track-suit time. The only time the track suits come out is when visiting nanny (the buyer of track suits) and when "mummy is having one of those weeks". So, mummy looks sensible, the boys look like mini 'wide boys' and daddy looks...tired.
Raisins, cheese, apples, crisps, spare pants, trousers, drinks CHECK.
My phone isn't fully charged, my underwear isn't very comfortable, my chest is tight, throat sore... deep breaths, asthma pump. I have a spot on the bridge of my nose, ripe for squeezing. If I squeeze it, it'll look unsightly, but I can't bear to leave it. Into the car, which is a skip full of detritus, debris, dirt. Music comes on louder than usual, competing with tearful two year old (probably tired from disturbed itchy-skin sleep). I start to twitch internally.
Off we go, to Toys R Us, to look for some more pieces for the train track. It's miles away, we pass many an uninspiring industrial estate. We miss the turning, never mind, turn around a mile up the road. I'm not used to big stores any more, I get dizzy pretty quickly, and lose the tiny bit of spatial awareness I have. The boys sit on bikes, the train track section is poorly stocked, we browse and leave, empty handed.
Cream for their sore skin, must stop at the chemist, must pretend it's for me or they won't sell it (even though the doctor prescribes it for them) and must buy Fairy washing powder to stop their skin getting sore. Get the cream (pharmasist: "who is it for?" er, me. "Which area of your body is it for?" my bottom. Great lie, she'll never ask to look there.). I forgot to get the washing powder. I feel so very out of sorts, I hoped writing this would sort me out, I feel worse.. Tuesdays aren't meant to be like this, I go to my exercise class on Tuesday, I don't have everyone home normally. I can't believe how much of a 'creature of habit' I have become. How worrying.
Strong tea and run, that is my next strategy, it'll either kill or cure me
Watch this space...
A blog makeover eh? I like it. I forgot to copy you in on my emails until this minute so will do so right now.
ReplyDeleteabout running ... they say the first ten miles are the worst
ReplyDeleteI always enjoy your posts, I love your observations and the way you write. This post was a gem, I didnt realise until I had a baby how much effort it took to get out of the door before 9 am.
ReplyDeleteI also chuckled at the fairy washing powder. I remember all the mummy advise when I was pregnant telling me I HAD to use Fairy non bio, had to wash every piece of clothing before it touched my babys skin yada yada yada.
Scarlett x
My running routine consists of a two mile 'canter' around the block. I have a quiet determination. One day I will run for miles and miles without my trusty asthma pump. And one day I will be organised. After that, my work will be done.
ReplyDelete